


Of Posters and Grenades

by ThaliaClio



Series: Demons and Playmates [10]
Category: Psych, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Friendship, In Soviet Russia a consulting detective and a consulting psychic detective becomes buddies, John is stressing, Lestrade doesn't get paid enough for this, Not really though, Past Drug Use, Sherlock has friends that aren't John, Sherlock is a Brat, Sherlock is a child, Sherlock's flat is weird, They keep in touch, so is Shawn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-24
Updated: 2014-02-24
Packaged: 2018-01-13 14:58:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1230712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThaliaClio/pseuds/ThaliaClio
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John doesn't speak Filipino. Sherlock has a friend. Lestrade is clueless. Alternatively titled "They Did Not Meet In a Russian Prison".</p><p>We are all searching for someone whose demons play well with ours. - Unknown</p><p>(Can be read as a standalone but would probably make more sense if you read 'Of Comings and Goings first.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Posters and Grenades

Sherlock Holmes is many things. Brilliant. Annoying. a --

"Freak," Donovan greets the newcomer. "Back again? What crime scene were you skulking about this time?"

Holmes has become a fixture at the Yard over the past few months. Sometimes he shows up to tell them what they've missed or done wrong. Usually a constable will nab him at a crime scene. And then he'll tell them what they've missed or done wrong.

"Donovan," Lestrade cuts her off with a tired wave as he stares at the man sulking at the table.

Holmes ridiculous in so many ways. He's tall and thin and pale with features sharp enough to cut glass. He reminds Lestrade of vampires from those novels his wife liked to read (that he maybe read. sometimes.).

"Check his mobile."

Lestrade shoots Holmes a baleful look. "Believe it or not, I know what I'm doing."

"Then you know that he was having an affair with a Mr. Justin DuMorne. A married Mr. Justin DuMorne. Whose wife is an award winning competitive shooter. Whose wife owns the same caliber gun as the murder weapon. Whose wife has no alibi for last night."

(Lestrade had known none of this.)

"Of course I did." Lestrade goes to the door and pulls it open. "Now get out."

Holmes rolls his eyes and tugs on his coat and Lestrade knows that he knows that he didn't know and is allowing the Detective Inspector this polite fiction. He's surprised by the tact.

Holmes is halfway out of the station before --

"Next time just wait until we call you!"

__

Sherlock Holmes has no one. It is a constant in Lestrade’s universe alongside murders and robberies and Donovan and Anderson’s affair. Sherlock does not have friends. He has colleagues and informers and people indebted to him, but no friends. Sherlock Holmes is alone.

__

Sherlock Holmes has John Watson. It is a constant in Lestrade’s universe alongside murders and robberies and Donovan and Anderson’s affair. Sherlock has one friend. He has colleagues and informers and people indebted to him, but only one friend. Sherlock Holmes is (sometimes) alone.

__

Sherlock has the pin from a grenade, but no grenade. Sherlock has a yellow smiley face with bullet holes on his wall. Sherlock has several dozen books written in ancient Greek, Latin, and Gaelic as well the entire Dr. Seuss collection. Sherlock has body parts in his fridge next to sliced pineapple. Sherlock has a package of nicotine patches next to a candle that smells like Hawaii.

Sherlock has a very odd collection in his flat, much of which Lestrade has never asked about.

Every time he comes to Sherlock’s flat because the man refuses to move two feet to answer his phone, he sees something new and baffling. Today he sees a green poster declaring **psych** in bold bubble letters hanging beside the bullet-ridden smiley.

For the first time in ever, Sherlock seems to have had an actual reason for not answering his phone seeing as he’s currently speaking into it. When Lestrade had arrived ten minutes previously, Sherlock had pulled open the door without waiting for the knock and then had waved him onto the couch without ceasing to speak. Also, he was speaking Not English. It wasn’t Spanish or French or Italian. The closest Lestrade could tell, it was some kind of Eastern language. Whatever it was, it had Sherlock _smiling_.

(Sherlock didn’t _smile_. He smirked or grinned or bared his teeth, but he did not _smile_ with laughter and amusement and even a little bit of honest joy. But Sherlock didn’t _smile_.

(Except sometimes with John. But those quickly disappeared when anybody else made their way into Sherlock and John’s private circle. Theirs was a private friendship, not one for public display.)

And here Sherlock was. Smiling. Smiling with no embarrassment or indication that he was faking it.)

Fifteen minutes after Lestrade’s arrival, thirty after his phone call, and one hour after the crime scene was discovered, Sherlock hangs up his phone and stops smiling to frown at Lestrade who is staring dumbfounded at Sherlock and then at the poster behind him.

“Was there a reason you’re here or did you come simply to gape?”

“I uh… Who was that on the phone there?”

“A friend.”

“John speaks Chinese?” The doctor had been a soldier as well. Perhaps he had picked up a language?

“There are multiple ‘Chinese’ languages, not one as you seem to be implying. Do be precise. Also, Filipino.”

“John speaks Filipino?” Were there any conflicts in the Philippines that John may have been deployed to?

“No.” Sherlock crosses to the couch, flinging himself onto the cushions as a child might, so very out of place with his arrogant demeanor and perfectly cut suit.

“I thought you said it was a friend?”

“I did.”

If Lestrade didn’t know better, he would say Sherlock was offended. But Sherlock didn’t get offended. Not even when Donovan called him freak or Anderson brought up his drug habit.

“It was the mother. There was dirt under her nails and her phone is new made to look worn. Is there anything else you needed, or have you come to insult my social skills?”

Definitely offended.

“Look, Sherlock, I –“

He is cut off by the sound of a song which sounds way too cheery and American to be anywhere near Sherlock. Sherlock ignores Lestrade’s obvious confusion, reaching for his phone instead and smiling as he answers.

Unfamiliar sounds unlike those from earlier flow from Sherlock’s mouth. Lestrade can only stare dumbfounded Sherlock’s undisguised humor.

“Greek,” Sherlock suddenly says. He’s eying the DI with familiar dismissal.

“Huh?”

“I’m speaking Greek now. Now, if that is all, would you be kind enough to shut the door on your way out? I have a phone call.”

Lestrade nods maybe a little dumbly before exiting the flat, taking care to pull the door shut behind him. He idly bids Mrs. Hudson farewell, almost asking what her first name is out of idle curiosity, but bites his tongue and steps onto the street.

“So what did the Freak say?”

Lestrade glances over to Donovan, hunched against the wind in her peacoat, having forgotten she’d come along as well. He considers telling her to lay off. Instead --

“The mother did it.”

Donovan rolls her eyes but doesn’t argue. As little as she likes Sherlock, she does respect his work to a degree and will investigate the lead before dismissing it.

“When’s the last time you ever saw Sherlock on the phone?” He suddenly asks, realizing what had been bothering him about the scene in the flat.

“The Freak’s always texting people.”

“No, I meant speaking. As in taking a phone call.”

“There are people who actually _want_ to talk to him?”

Lestrade shakes his head and flicks his collar up against his neck. “Come on. We’ve got an arrest to make.”

__

Sherlock Holmes is dead. The world goes on maybe a little more slowly.

__

Sherlock Holmes is Not Dead. The world goes on maybe a little more quickly.

__

Sherlock planning a wedding might be one of the most amusing things that Lestrade had ever had the pleasure of watching. The bursts of excitement became more frequent, and rather than shouting about murders and clues, he would run off hollering about flowers and musicians. Even Donovan smiled when Sherlock left a crime scene to go schedule a cake tasting for Mary and John.

Apparently Sherlock wasn’t answering his phone, though, and John had asked Lestrade to stop by 221B and _Find him. He’s the one who scheduled this bloody appointment anyway._

Stressed as the doctor had sounded, Lestrade decided to oblige him. Besides, it was a slow day at the Yard, and he had no desire to sit at his desk and do paperwork.

“Sherlock!” Lestrade shouts as he pounds on the door. “Sherlock, open the door.”

Lestrade knows from past experience that Sherlock will open the door if he doesn’t explain why he’s there if only to discover Lestrade’s purpose.

But when the door swings open it’s not Sherlock on the other side. Lestrade’s reaching for his gun even as he examines the man who is very much Not Sherlock. He’s a little bit shorter than Sherlock with hair a few shades darker than John’s and maybe five years younger than Sherlock. And he’s smiling.

Just as his fingers brush his gun, Sherlock appears behind the man’s shoulder, looking faintly amused.

“Are you really going to shoot him, Detective Inspector? Seems like an overreaction on your part.”

“I wasn’t—“

“Got shot once a few years back. That sucked. Let’s not do that again.” And he’s American.

“Yes, let’s not do that again.” And Sherlock’s concerned.

“And who are you, exactly?”

The American opens his mouth to respond, but Sherlock gets there first.

“An old friend. Shawn Spencer.”

Lestrade waits for the inevitable correction. Because there always is one. It took John years to allow Sherlock to introduce him as _friend_ instead of _colleague_ or _flat-mate_ or _partner_.

The American – Shawn – just smiles and slings one arm over Sherlock’s shoulder.

And Sherlock doesn’t shrug it off.

"We met in a Russian prison after I stole Putin's shoe and he made a "In Soviet Russia..." joke."

Sherlock's only response is a raised eyebrow. Lestrade almost believes Shawn. Would have if it weren't for the part about Sherlock making a joke.

“Was there something you needed, Lestrade? You seemed quite eager for my attention a few moments ago.”

“Is it a case? Please say it’s a case. Maybe _Psych_ can go international. Do you guys know a guy named Despereux? Love that guy. Case? No. Not a case. John? Yes. Definitely John. You totally ditched John for me. I’m flattered. And insulted. When can I meet him? I want to meet him.”

Shawn doesn’t stop to breathe once. Sherlock is smiling. Lestrade is gaping.

“Good God. There’s two of you.”

The way Sherlock and Shawn stop and blink at him simultaneously only confirms it.

“Please. I’m the only consulting detective in the world. I invented the job.”

“Please. I’m the only _psychic_ consulting detective in the world. I was inspired by his job. And possible prison time.”

Lestrade is still gaping.

“I…” He shakes his head. “John is looking for you. Something about a cake appointment?”

“You introduced him to Leah Anne?” Shawn pulls away and bounces on his feet, all too similar to a puppy for Lestrade’s sanity. “Her cupcakes are amazing even after five days on a submarine.”

“It was an overnight delivery. From a plane,” Sherlock responded calmly.

“I’ve heard it both ways.”

“You bloody git. Your best friend is looking for you, and I think he’s about to stroke over an appointment you set up. _Go_.”

And Lestrade leaves. Turns around and walks away without waiting for a response. Doesn’t even close the door. He does not get paid nearly enough to deal with _two of them_. He isn't getting paid at all for this little trip.

Just before he reaches the street --

"Dude! I found the grenade! Where's the pin?"

“Shit,” Lestrade says once he reaches the street. “ _Two of them_.” 

And then he runs right back upstairs.

(They're both fine. The grenade is a dud)

(The grenade is filled with pineapple jello. "Experiment," Sherlock says, nose high in the air.)

("Bullshit," Lestrade responds.)

(Shawn seconds that.)

(Lestrade likes him.)

__

Sherlock Holmes has John Watson and Shawn Spencer and Greg Lestrade and Mycroft Holmes and Mrs. Hudson and Molly Hooper and Philip Anderson. These are constants in Lestrade’s universe alongside murders and robberies and Donovan and Anderson’s affair. Sherlock has many friends. He has colleagues and informers and people indebted to him, who are all friends. Sherlock Holmes is rarely alone.

**Author's Note:**

> Reviews fuel my creative fires.


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